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First off, let me just say, I don’t know if I believe in ghosts. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. I love science, and it doesn’t really seem possible, but I like to believe that there are things that happen in this world, that we just can’t seem to explain.

With that out of the way, I want to write about some seriously fucked up shit that’s been going on.

Some backstory, there is this ‘ghost’ that follows my two best friends, and I around. I say ghost, but in all reality it could be more than one, or just us tagging that word onto things we can’t really explain. This ghost, largely lived in my parent’s house, jumping from person to person every so often. We never cared, because it never really did anything mean spirited to us.

The first time I saw it was in the attic of our house. Not so much an attic, as a place to access the ventilation system of our house; you can’t store anything in there. There is a small door leading into it, in my little brother’s room. My sister, and I took a look in there, and saw nothing. She got bored, and turned around to head out, and once she turned her back, I saw a softly glowing white smoke appear in the corner of the attic. I know what you are saying, it sounds like something out of the grudge, and it looked just like the black tendrils in that movie. The thing is, though, I saw the white smoke a full three years before that movie came out, and it is the only reason that that movie scares me.

Cut to a few dormant years later, and I’m with my friends, Joe, and Wes, on my roof. We went out there to smoke cigarettes, and we made sure to lock the door, and turn off the light, so my parents would have no reason to suspect we were in there. The key to that door had long been ‘lost'(aka, I threw it somewhere), so there is no way you can open it without breaking the door.

We finished smoking our cigarettes, and clamored back across the roof, and arrived at the window, which we had left open, because it’s a bitch to open from the outside. Only, the window sat closed, with the light on. That alone freaked us out, we almost fell off the damned roof because of it. We got it open, and found that the door was also unlocked. I know, skeptics, you’re saying my mom had an extra key or something. Not so, because there is a clear view from the roof to the backyard, where my mom sat smoking, and she never left her spot while we smoked. My dad was out of town, so only my mom, and my brother were there besides me. My brother was spending the night at his friend’s, but even if he wasn’t there would be no way he could’ve gotten inside. He saw me chuck the key. I checked my mother’s keyring once we got in, to make sure. No key for my door.

This wasn’t the first time we had been messed with by the ghost, but this was the most blatant occurrence. It’s easy to brush all of that off, until we got downstairs, and looked for food to eat. All three of us were by the fridge, far away from the microwave sitting on the counter. I didn’t hear anything when I walked into the kitchen, and none of us had found something to eat yet, but all of a sudden, I hear the microwave going. I freak out, and run to open it up, revealing it had been microwaving empty air.

So, that was the biggest ghost story I ever had, until all of us started moving out. I want to make it clear, we were okay with our ghost. It never harmed us, it just did little things like that. We fully accepted it as a part of our life, and never belittled it.

Then my friend, Wesley, had his kid about seven months ago. He had been living with his girlfriend in his apartment for a few months before, and nothing ever happened. Even for a few weeks after his kid was born, still nothing.

Then it started; whenever they took Aaron(Wesley’s child) into their bedroom, his eyes darted immediately towards the upper left corner of the room. Whatever sounds he was making, laughing, crying, humming, all ceased as they entered the room. A blank stare towards the upper left corner is all he does when they enter. I’ve seen it a few times, and it somes creepy shit to hear a wailing child stop mid-cry, and just stare at a corner.

Wesley, having dealt with ghosts more, shall we say, active than mine, did something he had heard from his grandmother. He nailed a cross to the wall, right below the spot where Aaron always stared. Two nails, top and bottom, secured the crucifix to the wall.

The staring actually stopped for a while, until one day, when Wesley put Aaron to bed, and sat down to play a game, a loud bang came from the bedroom. He ran into the room, and found his child, safe and sound, but staring at that corner again. Wesley looked to the corner, and found the cross had turned upside down.

Obviously, he freaked the fuck out. He grabbed Aaron, and ran out the door. He spent two hours outside, before calming down, and walking back in. He left Aaron out by the couch, and went back into his bedroom, to inspect the cross.

The truly spine shivering thing is, that both nails were still in place, it was the cross that had rotated 180 degrees. We still can’t figure out how it could’ve flipped without a nail being taken out. I suppose you could reason someone snuck in, and pulled a nail out, and rotated it, and hammered it back in with one blow, which would explain the bang. Thing is, Wes had just put Aaron to bed, he had barely grabbed his controller when he heard the bang, and if you have ever tried to hammer something in one blow, it leaves a deep dent in whatever the hammer strikes. Wes’ cross is pristine.

Whatever is in that house, hates Wes. He’ll sit on the couch, ready to watch tv, when papers on the tv fly across the room, and hit him. He hears whispers, and feels someone sitting down next to him as he lays in bed. This isn’t just him, his girlfriend hears it too, but it’s much lighter, and less agressive towards her than him.

This is where I come in. Wesley’s been losing a lot of sleep from all of this, so we spend a lot of nights on the phone, and playing games together, because I’m a nightowl, and I don’t work until later in the day.

He’s told me all of this, and I half-heartedly believe him, because I’m a skeptic most of the time. It’s hard to explain, but I definitely think most ghost sighting are hoaxes, or people mistaking what they see. I humored him, and acted as if I really believed what he was experiencing, but I didn’t think it to be true. I actually started to become worried about my friend’s mental health.

I was over at his house, about a week ago, talking to him about our lives. He held a finger up, and asked me if I heard ‘that’. I didn’t hear a damned thing, and told him so. He shook his head, and began to mutter odd things. It took me a second to realize he muttered a prayer, which is odd, because my friend isn’t religious in the slightest.

I became annoyed, this had gone on enough, and it was starting to get out of control. I told Wesley that he needed to calm down, and maybe see someone. He laughed, and told me that if I didn’t believe, ‘it’ would make me believe. He smacked the ground three times, and asked me if I still believed in the old ghost, the one who would do little things to fuck with us.

I told him I wasn’t sure, some days I did, and some I didn’t. He smirked, and told me that this ghost ‘killed’ the other one. I don’t know why, but that stirred an interest in me; I asked him what he heard. He told me he couldn’t understand it most of the time, it spoke in a language he had never heard, but sometimes, he heard one word in English: ‘Mine’.

I still felt skeptical, but it didn’t matter what my mind felt, my body shivered. He noticed, and laughed, saying shivers had long abandoned him. By this point, I was throughly weirded the fuck out. I didn’t recognize my friend anymore, he had become paranoid. I knew I had to get him some help.

In the meantime, I needed sleep. I drove home, and got into bed with my girlfriend, slept hard. I don’t remember my dreams, but I do remember a feeling of dread when I awoke. Nothing happened that day, or the day after that, nothing until yesterday.

I woke up with a horrendous taste in my mouth. The kind of taste you need a pressure washer to get rid of. That isn’t crazy out of the ordinary for a smoker, I often wake up with the taste of stale cigarettes. I went to brush my teeth, while my girlfriend had already woken up, and was working out in the living room.

I like to close my eyes while I brush my teeth, I don’t know why, call it zen mode or something. I neared the end of my brush cycle, when I felt finger tips touch my face. I tried opening my eyes, expecting to see my girlfriend fucking with me, or something, but I couldn’t. It felt like they had been fused shut, I screamed, and fell over, pulling down the shower curtain as I crashed into the tub.

They snapped opened when I hit the floor of the bathtub. My girlfriend ran in, and asked, “Alex, what happened, are you okay?”

She stood by the door, looking at me. I couldn’t think of what to say, how to describe what had happened, so I said, “No, I just freaked out for a second, must’ve fallen asleep while brushing my teeth. I dreamt I couldn’t open my eyes.”

She smiled, “You’re a loser.”

She came over to me, and we fucked right there in the tub, shower curtain and all. After we had finished, I had forgotten about the freaky shit that had just happened. I went about the rest of my day, eating, writing, working, arriving home with an hour and a half to spare before I had to pick up my girlfriend from work. Normally, I use that time to watch tv, or clean, but I needed to write.

I grabbed my computer, and started to write. I’m working on a fantasy novel, and so I pulled it up, and thought of what I wanted to write. In my head, the words, ‘he slid his blade from the scabbard, and cut the burly man’s head off in a fluid motion’ had formed perfectly. Then, I started to type. Here’s what I wrote:

Yeah, freaked me out. It’s not what I was writing, so much as the fact I wasn’t writing what I wanted to that bothered me. I continued on this way for ten or so minutes, before I stopped, and really started to look at the words. Most, are complete babble, but there are key things. ‘Mine’ stood out, and I had to leave my house, and smoke a cigarette to continue through the words. If you look, where it repeats aa over and over, the first letters of the next word are R-O-N. Aaron. ‘Yelsew’ is Wesley spelt backwards. I don’t know what the rest of the words are, if they are another language, it’s not one I recognize.

Aaron, followed by MINE, then Wesley, followed by MINE. Wesley said the voice kept speaking in a different language, only ever saying the word, ‘mine’ in english.

I did not want to go back in that house, but I left the keys in there, and I needed to get my girlfriend from work. I walked back in, fists held high, as if I could punch a ghost. I tiptoed into the living room, and grabbed the keys off the couch. My fingers clasped around the metal things, and I heard one loud bang, from my bedroom. I grabbed the keys, and ran.

As I turned, I could see clearly into my bedroom, the door somehow wide open, though I could’ve sworn a second ago, it was shut. In the upper left corner of my bedroom, hung an upturned cross. I don’t keep crucifixes in my house.

I got to my girlfriend’s work, and cried. I told her we couldn’t go home, not tonight at least. She’s never seen me cry, so she agreed to stay at a hotel tonight.

I just woke up, and nothing strange is happening anymore. I hope it was just that one night. The hotel room is brightly lit, and I kept the lights on all night, just to feel safe. My writing is okay, no weird words or anything. I have this scheduled to go out at 8:30 tonight. I would do a spell check, but I just can’t focus long enough to go through it, sorry. I’ll write again on this, even if nothing happens, to let everyone know I’m okay.